


Through The Storm

by katling



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't think Fenris was just going to let Garrett Hawke run off like that, did you? It's not like Skyhold is hidden away and inaccessible. Also features my male mage Inquisitor, Jeremy Trevelyan, and Dorian Pavus as well as cameos from Solas and Cole.</p><p>ETA: Erm, I had to take the rating up with the addition of the new chapters. It's just the end of chapter 2 though, if you'd prefer to avoid it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea whether or not Dorian (or more likely his father) would have known Danarius since I know that Danarius was on Seheron when Fenris was left behind/escaped but I just thought why the hell not for this fic. I kind of like it as headcanon so I'm running with it. I don't know if there's a specific age for Dorian but I'm placing him in his mid-teens when he first sees Fenris in Minrathous.

Fenris paused and pulled his cloak and hood tighter around himself. He’d known Skyhold was deep in the mountains but he hadn’t quite anticipated the depth of the cold this far up. His feet, usually so resilient to anything, were freezing and he was regretting not purchasing a pair of boots at the last village. Barker whined beside him and he rested a hand on the mabari’s head. 

“It is not far now,” he said, hoping he was right.

He started walking again, following the trail up and around as it wove through rocky outcroppings. He turned a corner around a craggy pile of rock and stopped short as he laid eyes on the fortress he’d been looking for. Skyhold was enormous, far bigger than he’d thought it would be, standing stark and imposing in the mountains. He sighed with a relief that belied the simmering emotions underneath and kept walking.

He was just shy of the massive gates leading the walkway across to the fortress when a horn sounded and two guards materialised out of the gatehouse.

“Hold and identify yourself,” one of them said.

“My name is Fenris,” he said. “I am a friend of Hawke… and Varric. The dog belongs to Hawke.”

The two guards exchanged glances and stepped aside. “Pass, Ser Fenris.”

He walked passed them and as he continued across the walkway, he saw a bird fly overhead towards the fortress. As such, he was not surprised when he walked into the bustling lower courtyard to see Varric stumping down the stairs towards him. The dwarf was accompanied by a handsome young man whom Fenris did not recognise.

“Broody,” Varric said as he approached. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. What’s going on?”

Fenris ignored the human, who was looking at Varric with amusement and mouthing the word ‘broody’. “Where is Hawke?”

Surprise crossed the dwarf’s face. “Didn’t you get my letter?”

Fenris shook his head. “No. I have been… avoiding the roads mostly. It is not safe.”

Varric hesitated and the human placed a hand on his shoulder. “Want me to handle this one, Varric?”

The dwarf looked up and sighed, “No, it’s okay.” He looked back at Fenris. “He’s gone, Fenris. He had to go to Weisshaupt.”

Fenris’ face went almost frighteningly blank and he nodded once. “I see. Thank you, Varric.” He turned on one heel and started walking towards the gates again.

“Broody!” Varric hurried forward and caught Fenris’ arm. “You can’t leave now.”

Fenris glared at him. “Why not?”

“There’s a storm coming,” the human said, stepping forward and gesturing towards the sky.

Fenris turned and saw the black clouds approaching rapidly. He scowled and his shoulders drooped as his hands clenched into tight fists. He’d been on edge and tightly wound since he’d first woken to find Hawke gone, leaving behind nothing more than a note and his mabari. To get here and find that Hawke was gone _again_ and now he could not immediately follow came perilously close to shattering something in his chest.

“Fenris.” Varric spoke softly, almost soothingly. “Come inside. Get some rest and when the storm clears we can send you off a bit better sorted than you are now.”

“Please stay,” the human said kindly. “We owe Hawke quite a bit here. The least we can do is see his friends looked after.”

Fenris hesitated then turned back to Varric and the human and nodded wearily. “Very well.”

“I’m Jeremy Trevelyan,” the human said, inclining his head slightly. A wry expression grew on his face. “Everyone here calls me Inquisitor or Herald but, you know, Jeremy is good as well, if you’d like.”

“I did not expect to be greeted by the Inquisitor,” Fenris said, blinking a little.

“Any friend of Hawke is a friend of mine,” Jeremy said as he ushered Fenris into the castle. 

In fairly short order, Fenris found himself ensconced in a comfortable room with a tray of food for himself and a bowl for Barker after he’d declined a meal in the communal dining room. He ate quickly and neatly then stripped his armour off and headed for the bed, too tired from the unrelenting cold on his journey through the mountains to think of doing anything more.

It was galling to have come all this way only to hear that Hawke was on his way to the Anderfels. His anger roiled and churned within him and his lyrium brands flashed as they reacted to his mood. Hawke had left him, no matter what the damn note said, and Fenris would have his answers even if he had to chase the man all the way to Par Vollen.

******

Varric closed the door to the Inquisitor’s room with a sigh. A small group was gathered there in response to Varric’s request. The storm was about to hit and if it was anything like the previous storms, it would be two or three days before it would pass. If Fenris was going to be here for that length of time, there would need to be some contingencies put in place.

He looked around and saw everyone he’d asked to be here – Jeremy, Dorian, Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana – and nodded in satisfaction. “I thought it’d be best to get a few things on the table regarding Fenris,” he said without any of his usual preamble.

“Is he dangerous?” Jeremy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, he can be,” Varric replied. “But he usually doesn’t do anything disastrous without reason. He’s a bit better than Hawke in that regard.”

“He’s a fine warrior,” Cullen said with a nod. “But I recall Aveline calling him prickly.”

“Like you’d never believe,” Varric said with a chuckle. 

“Given the current company, I am rather wondering why _I’m_ here, apart from my scintillating conversation and fabulous personality,” Dorian said dryly. 

Varric grimaced and sighed. “You’re going to have to be careful around him, Sparkler. In fact, you might want to avoid him entirely.”

“Why?” Jeremy asked with a frown.

Varric looked at Dorian. “Ever hear of a magister called Danarius?”

Dorian frowned and then his eyes widened and he gasped. “Does this Fenris have… markings? Made of lyrium?”

They all stared at the Tevinter mage but none more so than Varric. The dwarf’s stare was more of a glare and a protective one at that. “How the hell did you know that, Sparkler?” he demanded harshly.

Dorian swallowed and looked a little sick. “This was… twelve, maybe thirteen years ago. Possibly more. I was… young. I can’t remember exactly when. My father and I had been invited to this Danarius’ estate. He wanted to show off his _handiwork_ as he put it. Trying to curry favour with the other magisters for some reason that I never found out.”

“His handiwork was Fenris?” Varric growled.

Dorian nodded, still looking sick. “Yes. I never did hear the slave’s name but Danarius was very proud of him. He wanted us to marvel over what he’d done. Neither my father nor I were inclined to do so.”

“Why not?” Varric’s tone was almost challenging and the others raised their eyebrows at the dwarf’s protectiveness of his friends.

Dorian looked appalled. “He’d embedded lyrium under the poor lad’s skin, Varric! I may have my disagreements with my father but he would never abide mistreating anyone, let alone a slave, like that and he raised me to do the same.” He shook his head. “All I remember was thinking that the slave could not have been much older than me and it was entirely possible he was younger.”

Varric gave him a long hard look then relaxed and nodded. “Just checking, Sparkler. Fenris has had a rough life. He escaped from Danarius and spent a long time on the run before we had a faceoff with his former master in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall. It didn’t go so well for Danarius.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, he’s not too fond of Tevinter magisters and their ilk. He _probably_ won’t shove a hand through your chest but he won’t handle your personality well.”

“Shove a hand through his chest?” Jeremy said, leaning forward and looking concerned. “What the hell, Varric?”

“Those lyrium brands give him the ability to… phase in and out,” Varric explained. “I’ve seen him in action. He can shove a hand right through your chest and then decide whether or not he’s going to crush your heart where it lives.” He held out his hands. “He’s not likely to do that, Jeremy. He’s not that reckless. It’d just be best if Sparkler here doesn’t rile him up.”

“I think I can do that,” Dorian said with uncharacteristic soberness.

“Also, don’t bring up the slave thing,” Varric added. “He’s not fond of the reminders.”

“Right.” Dorian looked a little disgruntled.

“Is there anything good we should know about this Fenris?” Jeremy asked dryly.

Varric sighed and slumped down a little. “There’s a lot, Inquisitor. He’s a good man. I just… don’t want to see him hurt accidentally. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Jeremy smiled wryly. “You’re very protective of your friends, Varric. It’s good to see.”

Cassandra made a disgruntled noise that everyone ignored. 

“Why is he so determined to find Hawke that he was willing to walk out into a storm?” Josephine asked.

Varric hesitated for a moment then continued, “He and Hawke are lovers. Have been for a while now. Though the whole thing was slightly painful to watch before they got their heads out of their arses. The pining was incredible.” He shook his head. “And the dramatic pre-battle scene between them in the Gallows was especially touching. I’m usually a cynic about love but they managed to touch even my cold heart.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, caught a bit by surprise. “I…”

“Mind you,” Varric added dryly. “I wouldn’t want to be Hawke when Fenris catches up with him. My guess is Hawke left him a note. That wouldn’t have gone down well.”

Leliana looked amused. “He did seem to hover protectively when I saw them.”

“Is it really wise to let him go haring off to the Anderfels in the middle of winter?” Cullen asked.

Varric snorted. “If you can find a way to stop him, Curly, be my guest.”

******

Fenris woke to a moment of confusion before he remembered why he was sleeping in a very comfortable bed. Unfortunately that meant he also remembered why he was sleeping in a very comfortable bed _alone_ and the anger roiled through him again. He growled under his breath as he sat up and found himself facing a worried looking mabari.

“I am fine,” he said. Once he would have felt foolish talking to a dog but he’d had enough experience with mabari now to actually start to wonder if the dog could actually understand him.

He got up and washed his face before donning his armour. He slung his enormous sword over his shoulder and headed out of the room, Barker on his heels. Once out of the room, he could hear the howl of the storm that was keeping him trapped here and while he scowled at the necessity of staying, he wasn’t fool enough to venture out into the storm.

“Hey, Broody.”

He turned to see Varric walking along the corridor towards him. “Varric.”

“My timing is good,” the dwarf said easily. “Thought you might be waking up about now. How about something to eat?”

There was an exaggerated casualness about Varric’s manner that had Fenris raising an eyebrow. 

“I could eat,” he said, deciding to humour the dwarf.

Varric led him to the communal dining room and they collected plates of food and goblets of wine and sat down at a nearby table. Fenris ate quickly for a few minutes until the edges of hunger had been assuaged then he raised his eyebrow at Varric.

“What is going on?”

Varric looked surprised. “Who says something’s going on?”

“Varric.”

The dwarf sighed. “Things are… interesting round here, Broody, and I thought you should get a heads up before you walk into something.”

“That isn’t at all ominous,” Fenris said dryly.

“Argh, I’m not good at this,” Varric grumbled.

Fenris actually chuckled at that. “Just tell me, Varric, or we will still be here when one of those interesting things walks up to us.”

Varric sighed. “Good point. Look, the Inquisitor’s a good man and he’s collected some interesting people here to help him. One of them is… a Tevinter mage. Dorian Pavus.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “I remember a House Pavus.”

Varric went strangely still and Fenris watched with interest as the dwarf forced himself to relax. “Yeah, he said something similar last night.”

“I believe I said that Danarius had invited my father and me to his house to marvel over his latest project…” The distaste in the new voice was obvious at that word. “…and was displeased when we declined to marvel.”

Fenris gave a start and his brands flared momentarily in surprise. He looked up at the man who had spoken then Varric drew his attention again when he sighed heavily.

“Sparkler…” he began and Fenris looked faintly amused that Varric’s tendency to nicknames hadn’t ceased with Hawke’s friends.

He looked back at the Tevinter mage and his eyes narrowed. His memories of his childhood and youth were gone and while he had memories from after the brands were placed, the ones in the early years were sometimes a bit shaky. Nevertheless, the man standing in front of him looked vaguely familiar. He wasn’t sure if he was placing the boy who’d become this man or perhaps remembering his father.

“I remember you,” he said quietly. “At least, I think I do.”

Dorian looked surprised and even a little tentative. “Yes… now that I see you, I… also remember you.”

Fenris frowned again. “You looked... horrified. I remember that much. You were one of the few.”

Dorian relaxed a little, though Varric did not. He was watching the two of them as though he was sure he was going to have to intervene.

“Somehow that does not surprise me,” Dorian said with a disgusted snort. His voice took on a bitter mocking edge. “Let’s play with magic we don’t understand then act like it’s a marvel.”

Fenris actually snorted with amusement at that. “You are very odd for a Tevinter mage.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow but humour gleamed in his eyes. “I’ll have you know I’m the very best sort of Tevinter mage.” He smirked. “I’ll let you eat. I just thought I should come and say hello before Varric exploded.”

Dorian sauntered off and Fenris looked over at Varric, the amusement still clear in his eyes.

“Well, that’s Dorian,” Varric grumbled. “Good to see you weren’t inclined to rip his heart out. Jeremy might have gotten a bit upset about losing his bed partner.”

Fenris looked startled at that and looked towards the door Dorian had disappeared out of. “They are… open about that?”

“We all know,” Varric replied. “Why?”

Fenris was still staring at the door then he shook his head and turned back to his meal. “Nothing. If he wishes you to know, he will tell you.”

“Now that’s no fair, Broody.”

“When have I ever been fair?”

“Good point,” Varric said. “Alright, let me tell you about the rest of the menagerie before they all turn up to try and stop my heart like Dorian did.”

*****

Fenris had found a spot up in Leliana’s aerie to perch and stare out at the storm while he brooded. The Spymaster he had once known as Sister Nightingale had welcomed him with a small smile earlier and he’d noticed that after a quiet word from her, her people had avoided disturbing him. He was grateful for it.

His thoughts were consumed by the memory of the morning he’d woken up alone. They’d been walking for days, in between slaughtering Tevinter slavers, before they’d found a village with an inn. They’d taken a room, used the bathhouse, eaten and then put the bed to good use. Fenris wondered if Hawke had already had Varric’s message. He must have. Must have been waiting for them to reach something resembling civilisation before he left, not wanting to abandon Fenris in the wilderness. 

He’d left a note, of course, carefully written in a clear and precise script so that it would be easy for Fenris to read. He still struggled when trying to read poor handwriting and Hawke’s had been atrocious. Not anymore. He took the time and care to write legibly for Fenris… even when he was abandoning him. The note had begged Fenris to understand, that Varric had needed him for something, that he wanted Fenris to stay safe. Fenris had never felt so bitter as when he’d read those words. 

A hint of movement had him looking around and he saw Leliana walking away. In her wake had been left a few pieces of paper. He stared at them for a moment then picked them up. Leliana was not the sort of woman who made mistakes therefore this was something she felt he needed to see. It was a report of some sort of a siege on a place called Adamant and it took only a few paragraphs to see why she’d left it for him. This was what Hawke had come here for. The Wardens falling into the madness of a false Calling sent by Corypheus.

He scowled as he read the report. The fight against Corypheus in the Warden prison had been hard and vicious and he remembered striking the killing blow himself, driving the blade of the Sword of Mercy Hawke had given him through the Darkspawn magister’s chest. And it was utterly typical that Hawke should take Corypheus’ reappearance as a source of guilt. The man was ridiculous in the way he took on the guilt of others onto his own shoulders.

Then he read of the Fade. The report had obviously been written by the Inquisitor and the mage had a blunt but elegant way of describing things. He wrote of the spirit that had appeared as the Divine, the Nightmare who had them trapped and… the sacrifice Stroud had made because the Inquisitor had been forced to make a choice between Stroud and Hawke. Because of course Hawke would make that offer.

“ _Venhedis_ ,” he spat, his grip tightening on the paper until he threatened to tear it.

He felt more than saw Leliana appear next to him. She gently tugged the report from his hands and set it aside.

“The Inquisitor told me this morning that though he regrets Stroud’s death in the Fade, he can only feel glad that he brought Hawke back for you,” she said gently.

Fenris snarled wordlessly, unable to articulate his anger and grief and longing. Leliana seemed to understand anyway and she took his hand. Her touch was gentle enough that he permitted it.

“He feels responsible for Corypheus,” she said.

“He is a fool,” Fenris snarled.

Leliana chuckled sadly. “Aren’t we all at times? Many things happened in Kirkwall that he tried but failed to control or fix. I think perhaps he thought this was something he _could_ fix.” 

_But what of me?_ he wanted to demand. This… this just made him doubt his place in Hawke’s life and heart. That Hawke would offer so glibly to stay in the Fade, to die and leave Fenris alone.

Once again, Leliana seemed to understand what he was thinking. “I do not think it was an offer he made lightly.”

“He still would have been _dead_ ,” Fenris growled.

“But he is not and we will see you on your way to him,” Leliana replied.

Fenris’ reply was halted by the appearance of a raven that almost hurled itself in through an upper window. How the creature had made it through the storm was unknown and Leliana hurried over to it, cradling it gently before turning the exhausted bird over to one of her people. She unrolled the message it had been carrying and her eyebrows went up. She glanced over at Fenris then returned to his side.

“Hawke is returning here.”

Fenris stared at her. “What?”

“There are no details as to why, just that he is returning here. He should get here two or three days after the storm abates.”

Fenris frowned and swallowed and then simply nodded. While the anger still roiled within him, now it was mixed with worry. What could have caused Hawke to turn back? It wasn’t like the man to turn back from a path he’d chosen if he thought it was important. He barely noticed Leliana leave as he sat and brooded and fretted.

*****

He didn’t return to Leliana’s aerie after that. He found himself unable to sit still as he waited for the storm to pass and Hawke to return. Instead he took to wandering Skyhold. The building was massive and something of a rabbit warren and he often got lost, ending up in odd places and quite often coming face to face with people who simply smiled wryly and nodded in understanding when he said he was lost before directing him back to more populated areas of the fortress.

He had decided to investigate the library on the third morning of the storm. He read well enough these days, especially if the subject interested him, and he was hoping there might be a book or two there that would distract him from the seemingly endless waiting. Varric directed him through the door next to the table he’d appropriated and he found himself in a large round room whose walls were partially covered in the most astonishing murals. He paused in the room and stared at them, wondering what they represented.

“Hello. You must be Fenris.”

He turned to find himself facing another elf. Not one of the Dalish though from the lack of vallaslin and by simple process of elimination, Fenris knew who this must be.

“I am,” he replied. “And you are… Solas?”

Solas inclined his head slightly. “I am.” Fenris was unsurprised when the other elf’s eyes fell to the markings on his chin and neck though the sudden frown was unexpected. “Those… are _not_ vallaslin,” Solas said sharply. “In fact…” The frown deepened into genuine anger. “They are… lyrium.”

Fenris snorted. “Did Varric not tell you?”

Solas shook his head and stepped forward, one hand reaching out towards Fenris’ chin. Fenris stepped back, tensing as he did, one hand twitching towards the hilt of his sword as he remembered that this elf was also a mage, and Solas came to a halt.

“Forgive me, Fenris,” the elven mage said, calming himself and clasping his hands together behind his back. “My manners are deplorable once again. I was merely…” He drew in a deep breath and once again, Fenris could see anger lurking in Solas’ eyes. “Who did this to you?”

A sardonic smirk curved Fenris’ lips. “My former master and he died at my hand from the abilities these markings grant me.”

Solas was still for a moment then a smirk to match Fenris’ flashed over his face. “Good.”

Fenris was almost surprised by Solas’ reaction. Most people were at least marginally uncomfortable at the idea. Not of him killing Danarius but by _how_ he’d killed him. But Solas simply seemed satisfied, as though he considered it the best kind of justice.

“I saw you admiring the murals,” Solas said, changing the subject and gesturing towards the walls.

“What do they mean?” Fenris asked.

“They are a record of what the Inquisition has done.”

Fenris looked at them more closely. One thing that caught his attention was the amount of wolf imagery in the murals. That, more than anything, marked Solas as not being Dalish. They did so fear their Dread Wolf. Fenris thought it absurd but then Danarius had called him ‘little wolf’ quite a lot and Fenris had somewhat embraced that after he’d escaped the man’s clutches. Reclaimed it was probably a better turn of phrase and he’d had done it sufficiently that he permitted Hawke to call him ‘wolf’ now. The word no longer held the memories it once had. They had been replaced with better ones.

“Explain, if you wish,” he said, drawing himself out of his thoughts.

Solas cocked his head slightly then smiled. “Of course.” He led Fenris over to the first of the murals and spoke of the Conclave and the explosion, the Herald and the closing of the Breach. They moved around and Solas told him of the events each image portrayed. Then they reached the mural representing Adamant and Fenris tensed as Solas explained what had happened there – the siege and the Inquisitor’s trip into the Fade with Hawke and Stroud.

“Were you there?” he asked, unable to keep the harsh note from his voice.

“I was but not with the Inquisitor,” Solas replied. “Cassandra, Dorian and Varric were the only ones close enough to follow him when he went after Clarel with Stroud and Hawke.”

Fenris grunted in reply and stared up at the mural, his fists clenched tightly. He was aware of Solas standing beside him but he was relieved with the mage said nothing.

“Longing, lines, lyrium. Glowing, glorious, gorgeous. Wanting, needing, he’s not here. Love, protect, keep him safe.”

Fenris whirled around at the unfamiliar voice, a curse on his lips and his hand reaching for his blade. Solas caught his arm with a strength Fenris wasn’t expecting.

“Fenris!” he said sternly. “It’s alright. This is Cole.”

A young man was perched on the table in the middle of the room. He wore plain clothing and a large hat that obscured most of his face. But there was something about the boy that set Fenris’ teeth on edge, that set the lyrium brands crawling unpleasantly, and he snarled silently.

“What is he?” he growled.

“Cole is a spirit,” Solas explained.

“An abomination?” Fenris’ brands glowed brightly in the windowless room.

“No,” Solas said firmly. “He possesses no one and nothing. Cole… came into this world to help and has somehow taken form on his own. He is a spirit of Compassion, Fenris. He will not harm you.”

The glow from the brands faded slowly but Fenris still eyed the young man suspiciously. “What did you say before?” he demanded, aware that Solas was still watching him warily. He seemed very protective of the spirit. “What was that?”

“Hawke,” Cole said. “He was hurting because you weren’t here so I could hear him.”

Fenris frowned and looked over at Solas.

“Cole can hear people’s thoughts when they are hurting,” Solas explained. “His nature requires him to help if he can. To ease their pain. He can’t always help though. He has been learning that.

“Hawke thought of you a lot,” Cole said. “Because you were not here. I didn’t understand some of his thoughts. Solas wouldn’t explain.”

Solas chuckled at that and Fenris frowned at him. “Cole is… an innocent in the full meaning of that word,” the elven mage explained. “Some of Hawke’s thoughts of you delved into areas that privacy dictates I not speak of.”

A slow flush rose on Fenris’ cheeks. Before Hawke, he’d thought himself incapable of blushing but the idiotic mage managed it time and time again. “He would not like…”

“I know,” Solas said with a small smile. “Unfortunately the ability to hear others is not something Cole can control. It is part of his very nature. He was only able to hear so much from Hawke because the pain of his separation from you was so constant and so strong.”

The flush on Fenris’ cheeks was replaced by a pallor and a bleak look before Fenris’ turned away towards the mural again.

“He loves you. He did not wish to leave you.”

“Shut _up_!” Fenris snarled, his hands clenching into fists.

“Cole, not now,” Solas said gently. 

“Alright,” the spirit said sadly and then Fenris felt a ripple across the markings on his skin and knew Cole was gone.

“Does he lie?” Fenris asked, his voice hard and cold.

“Cole does not understand the purpose of lying,” Solas replied. “Only that lying causes pain.”

Fenris hung his head and drew in a shuddering breath. He tensed when he felt Solas place a hand on his shoulder then slowly forced himself to relax.

“What Cole said was simply the truth,” the elven mage said quietly. “I know not what happened before Hawke arrived here but that he was weary and sad was obvious to any who cared to look.”

“He left,” Fenris said bleakly. “I woke one morning and he was gone. He left a note and his dog.”

“That bodes well then,” Solas said and Fenris turned a glare on him. Solas raised an eyebrow. “The mabari you arrived with is the dog in question, is it not?” Fenris nodded. “Then he was clearly intending to return to you.”

That had never occurred to Fenris. He’d been too caught up in the pain of being left behind to realise that Hawke would never leave Barker behind… unless he was planning to return for him. And Barker would never stay unless he knew his master was going to return and he had been asked to protect Fenris in the meantime.

For the first time since he’d woken that morning several weeks ago, some of the weight that had been dragging him down seemed to lift.

“Even the Nightmare in the Fade knew that the best place to attack Hawke was through you,” Solas said quietly. “Why would it need to do that if Hawke had discarded you?”

Fenris bowed his head and let out a shuddering breath. “I am a fool.”

“You are not a fool,” Solas replied with amusement. “You are in love. Though some might say they are one and same thing.”

Fenris snorted and looked over at the mage. “They would be right.”

Solas chuckled. “What is life without a little love and foolishness? We see enough of it here with our Inquisitor and Dorian, a little more cannot hurt anyone.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “The Tevinter…?”

“You can trust him,” Solas said, understanding what Fenris was asking. “He is not like your master.”

“You know of Danarius?” Fenris said with narrowed eyes.

“I know only what Varric and Dorian have told me,” Solas replied. “And what you have told me with your reactions. Dorian is not like him.”

Fenris nodded, willing to trust to the judgement of Varric and Solas. “I should let you get back to what you were doing. I was told I could find the way to the library through here.”

Solas smiled. “Up those stairs. You will likely encounter Dorian there. He enjoys his little retreat in the library.”

Fenris hesitated then nodded and headed for the stairs. It was a library after all; the Tevinter mage was unlikely to be obnoxious around books.

*****

Three days had passed since the storm had broken and dissipated and Fenris was on edge enough that he had taken refuge on the battlements overlooking the entrance to Skyhold in spite of the lingering cold. He did not trust his temper around the others anymore. He had met almost all of them by now in his nervous wanderings, all but the Orlesian First Enchanter Vivienne but he suspected he was not missing much there. Most of them he could tolerate but oddly enough it was Solas, Dorian, the Inquisitor and the Iron Bull he felt most comfortable with.

Jeremy had invited him to dine with himself and Dorian on his third night in Skyhold. He’d almost declined but he was curious about the two men. It had been an interesting and somewhat painful experience. Interesting because they were both well-read and excellent conversationalists without making him feel stupid for his lack of education. But the closeness between the two men reminded him of what he had found with Hawke and made the mad mix of emotions lurking under the surface all the more difficult to bear. 

He had met the Iron Bull after that dinner when he’d taken refuge in the tavern, intending to drown his problems in as much wine as he could afford. The enormous Qunari had been hard to miss and Bull had introduced himself – and later his company – without hesitation. He’d been wary at first around Bull until he’d found out that everyone knew he was Ben-Hassrath. Bull had to be the least subtle Ben-Hassrath he’d ever met and considering that included Tallis, that was saying something. He also wondered precisely how tightly Bull actually clung to the Qun but that was none of his business. They’d spent most of their time comparing blades and fighting techniques before Bull and his lieutenant Krem poured Fenris into his bed as some ungodly hour of the morning.

But now the third day after the storm had come and Leliana had received word that morning that Hawke should be here by the afternoon. So he’d retreated to the battlements to watch and when he saw that so familiar figure trudging along the causeway, he hurried down and was waiting in the lower courtyard. The Inquisitor was already there and he hung back, allowing Hawke to speak to the man first though he moved into earshot at least.

“The roads are crawling with those Red Templars,” Hawke was saying. “Masses of them. No idea where they’re going but they’ve got carts of prisoners with them as well. There were far too many for me to take on alone and I thought you’d want to know what’s going on. I can get together with Cullen and show him where I was.”

“Damn,” Jeremy said. “What the hell is Corypheus up to now?”

“Damned if I know,” Hawke said wearily then he caught sight of Fenris and he froze, his eyes wide and wondering. “ _Fenris_.”

“Ah, yes,” Jeremy said with a small smile. “Your friend arrived just ahead of the storm.”

Hawke wasn’t listening. Instead he was simply staring at Fenris and a parade of emotions was running across his face. Hawke had never been a subtle man and Fenris could see the longing, the love and the plain _want_ on Hawke’s face that made him ashamed he had ever doubted the other man. But he could also see the sheepish worry and apprehension that made the anger of being left behind rear up.

“Hawke. You _left_ me.” The trenchant bitterness, pain and anguish in his voice made Hawke… and everyone else in earshot… wince.

Hawke’s shoulders slumped and he closed the gap between them, though he was wise enough to not touch Fenris right now. “I… I know. I’m sorry, Fenris. I… I couldn’t let anyone else be hurt by Corypheus. He’s my responsibility.”

“We killed him,” Fenris snarled. “Your responsibility ended there.”

“He came back.”

“Not by anything _we_ did.”

“Fenris…”

“You were going to stay in the Fade.”

The blunt accusing words made Hawke blanch and Fenris could see the Inquisitor’s eyes widen before he quickly started ushering people away from the general vicinity.

“I…” Hawke sighed and his shoulders slumped even more. “I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I was so caught up in the Wardens’ mess and that Corypheus was back and… and _everything_ that was happening. I just wanted to do _something_ right.” He sighed and looked sad. “And I messed up again.”

Fenris wanted to hold onto the anger but he was no more immune than anyone else to Hawke when he was being forlorn and sad. And if he was entirely honest with himself, he didn’t _want_ to hold onto the anger. Yes, he might have lost Hawke but he didn’t and he hadn’t. 

He closed the remaining distance between them and cupped Hawke’s cheek with one hand. “You are an idiot.”

Hawke managed a wan smile as he leaned into Fenris’ touch. “So everyone says.” He wrapped an arm around Fenris’ waist and drew him close, sighing with relief when Fenris allowed that. “Want to come to Weisshaupt with me?”

“Someone must keep you out of trouble,” Fenris replied and returned Hawke’s bright smile with a small one of his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apparently I'm not done with this story so I'm adding this chapter and then one more. Just some little interludes I suppose. The aftermath of the first chapter.
> 
> Oh, and this one is kind of explicit. There be sex ahead!

Hawke collapse onto the bed with a satisfied groan and Fenris followed him, curling up around his lover. He felt Hawke’s arm wrap around his shoulders and he closed his eyes, happy to quietly revel in the scent of sex in the air and the pleasant ache in his arse. Their love-making had been particularly fervent and Fenris had all but begged to be taken, wanting to be surrounded by his lover. A year ago he might have still felt some lingering shame about wanting that but not anymore. Sex with Hawke was never about humiliation or pain, only pleasure for both of them.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke murmured as he wrapped his other arm around Fenris and drew him closer, if that was even possible given how closely they were pressed together.

“Why? That was exceedingly pleasant,” he said, deliberately misconstruing what Hawke meant.

He felt the rumble of Hawke’s chuckle under his ear. “Flatterer. But… Fenris, I _am_ sorry. I never meant…” He sighed then snorted in a self-deprecating manner. “I meant well. Worst possible thing I could say, isn’t it?”

Fenris shifted so that his chin was resting on Hawke’s chest and he could look at the other man’s face. “No, that would be ‘I meant to leave you’.”

Hawke’s arms tightened and a panicked look grew on his face. “ _Never_ ,” he said fervently. “I... Fenris, you must know that I would never leave you.”

He did know that but he also doubted at times. Struggled to fathom the reason why Hawke would stay with a prickly, antagonistic, former slave who disagreed with so much of what he believed in. But these days, he believed more than he doubted.

“Hawke…” He drew in a deep breath. “Garrett, I do know. I sometimes do not believe but I do know.”

Hawke caressed his face. “Then I’ll keep telling you until you always believe.”

Fenris snorted with amusement. “You are ridiculously romantic.”

Hawke grinned at him. “You love it. Besides, who was the one buying me that grimoire I wanted for my birthday last month?”

“I do not know,” Fenris said airily. “It could not have been me.”

Hawke gave a genuine laugh and rolled them over. “Oh really?” He leaned in and kissed Fenris. “Funny, it sort of looked like you giving it to me.”

Fenris pulled Hawke into another kiss rather than have to answer that. The kiss quickly deepened and when they broke away, they were both gasping for breath.

“Festis bei umo canavarum,” Fenris breathed as Hawke now wrapped himself around him.

“You’ve said that before,” Hawke murmured. “What does it mean?”

“You will be the death of me.”

Hawke looked up with mischief in his eyes. “But what a way to go.”

Fenris smiled. “There are worse ways.”

They settled down comfortably again and Fenris though Hawke had actually fallen asleep when the mage spoke again.

“How long were you waiting?”

“Six days,” Fenris replied, not even pretending to misunderstand. “Three for the storm then another three waiting for you to arrive.”

Hawke raised his head and he looked both surprised and faintly amused. “Wait, you were here for six days and you didn’t kill that Tevinter mage the Inquisitor adores so much? Okay, who are you and where is Fenris?”

Fenris pretended to scowl and swatted at Hawke’s head. “No, I did not kill him and you gave part of the reason yourself. He gave the rest.”

Hawke’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve met him? Spoken to him?”

Fenris hesitated for a moment. “I _remember_ him.”

Hawke shifted so that he could both look at Fenris more easily and offer him more comfort. “You do? How?”

“I do not remember him from… _before_ ,” Fenris said with a shake of his head. “I told you once that Danarius used to have me serve wine, to intimidate his guests.”

Hawke nodded. “I’m pretty sure I flirted with you about that.”

“You did.” Fenris smiled slightly. “I was startled but… I welcomed it.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Hawke replied with a chuckle. “Not that I would have wanted you serving me wine if you were Danarius’ slave but… well, you know what I mean.” He made a frustrated sign. “So tell me, what’s this about you meeting Dorian?”

“It was years ago,” Fenris said, his voice thoughtful. He ran his hand through Hawke’s hair, as much for his own comfort as for the fact it always made Hawke purr. “A year or two after the brands were placed. Danarius had invited Magister Pavus and his son over to _marvel_ …” The bitterness in his voice made Hawke lean up and kiss his neck. “…at his handiwork. The magister was skilled enough to mask his disapproval but his son was openly horrified.”

“That speaks well of Dorian,” Hawke said. “I guess it also explains why he’s here and not in Tevinter.”

“Partly,” Fenris replied.

It was Fenris’ tone of voice that had Hawke looking up at him. “I’m missing something here.”

“You said it yourself,” Fenris said. “The Inquisitor adores Dorian and the feeling is returned. That alone and the fact it is done so openly is… not acceptable in the Tevinter.”

Hawke frowned. “What do you mean?”

“In Tevinter, men can keep the company of other men but only in secret, hidden away and never referred to openly,” Fenris explained. “Even seeking the company of men of your own social bracket is frowned upon. Using a slave is barely acceptable.”

Hawke twitched at that last statement but didn’t comment on it. They’d never spoken about the insinuations in the things Danarius had said when they’d confronted him. Neither of them had wanted to and Fenris saw no purpose in it. He was quite capable of separating the things Danarius had done _to_ him with the things Hawke did _with_ him. 

“So Dorian is a true exile,” Hawke said quietly. “I know how he feels. I suppose we both do.”

“He has Jeremy,” Fenris replied.

“And I have you,” Hawke added with a small smile.

“Indeed,” Fenris said so dryly he drew a laugh out of Hawke and the mage then crawled up to kiss him almost into insensibility.

“Foolish mage,” Fenris growled fondly as he shoved at Hawke then straddled him.

Hawke let his fingers trail down the brands on Fenris’ body and as he did, he let a little of his magic slide into them. Fenris gasped and writhed as he felt the sensation spark his arousal. This was a side effect they’d discovered after their reconciliation almost by accident. Hawke had been healing a wound on his stomach and had brushed against the brands in the process. The effect on him had been obvious and at first, Fenris had felt nothing but humiliation that he could be so affected. But Hawke had given him a look of such surprise, speculation, love and lust that when the mage had asked if he could try using magic on the brands the next time they were in bed together, he had allowed it. And never really regretted it either. He might not trust mages in general but he would trust Hawke with everything.

Hawke continued to trace his brands, feeding magic into them until Fenris could stand it no longer. He shifted backwards and took hold of Hawke’s cock with one hand, lined it up with his entrance and slowly slid down. He was still slick and open enough from their last bout of love-making that there was no pain, only pleasure.

Hawke groaned underneath him, his hands shifting to grasp Fenris’ hips. “ _Maker_ , Fenris. Are you…”

“I am fine,” Fenris growled through gritted teeth as he raised himself. As he lowered himself, Hawke joined the party, grasping his hips tighter and rising to meet him.

He braced his hands on Hawke’s well-muscled chest and they set a familiar, well known rhythm. He intended to have Hawke later, something he knew the mage would greet with enthusiastic delight, but for now he wanted to be taken. Wanted to feel Hawke within him. Wanted that ache every time he took a step to remind him that he was not alone, had not been left alone.

“Harder,” he demanded and Hawke whined his agreement. His hands tightened on Fenris’ hips and he knew there would be bruises later that Hawke would fret over. But Hawke’s hips snapped up in a punishing rhythm and he met them with equal force, driving both of them to completion.

He wasn’t expecting Hawke’s hand around his erection and it only took a couple of strokes to send him over the edge with a cry. Fenris’ come striped Hawke’s stomach and chest and Hawke’s hand returned to the elf’s hip to clutch tightly as he thrust up harshly into his own orgasm.

Fenris raised himself just enough for Hawke to slip out of him and then collapsed at Hawke’s side as the mage reached for one of their shirts to clean himself off. He then drew Fenris close again and the elf allowed his eyes to close. He would sleep and then he would have Hawke. That was his plan.

“I have to meet Cullen in the morning,” Hawke murmured as he used a little magic to pull the blankets over them. “Then we should get on the road. It’s a long way to Weisshaupt.”

“Mmm,” Fenris replied. “If you think the Inquisitor is going to let you go so quickly, you are dreaming.”

Hawke chuckled. “Alright. One more night in a comfortable bed. Then we leave.”

“As long as it is ‘we’ then I have no argument,” Fenris replied.

“I’ve learned my lesson.” Hawke yawned and reached out to douse the candle. “Never again without you.”

Fenris smiled as sleep pulled him under. Who said Hawke didn’t learn from his mistakes?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy likes Hawke and Fenris and wanted them to stay for just one more night. So... dinner! And talk and veering near dangerous subjects.

“…and then he turned to me and said, with the most adorable pair of puppy eyes I’ve ever seen, ‘Dorian, I think we should run.” Dorian waved a hand with a flourish. “As if I was going to do anything else when faced with an Abyssal High Dragon with no more company than a single other mage.”

Jeremy was laughing and blushing. “I did _not_ use puppy eyes on you.”

“Oh, you most definitely did,” Dorian replied with an unrepentant grin. “Big wide alarmed puppy eyes.”

Hawke was laughing uproariously and even Fenris was smiling wryly. They were having dinner with the Inquisitor and Dorian in the Inquisitor’s rooms. As Fenris has predicted, Jeremy had insisted that they stay one more night before they left and even Hawke had been unable to say no.

“Hawke does the same thing,” he said dryly.

Hawke turned to look at him. “I do _not_.”

Fenris just raised an eyebrow at him and looked amused. “You do. Usually accompanied by ‘Fenris, please? It’ll only be a short detour.’” Jeremy and Dorian were laughing at them now and Fenris was surprised to find that he was enjoying himself. “A short detour that usually leaves us running for our lives.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Hawke said, laughing ruefully. “Am I?”

“Mostly,” Fenris said, still sounding as dry as a desert.

“No wonder I always got that sigh from Aveline,” Hawke said with a rather comical expression on his face.

“I’m betting I get a similar sigh from Cassandra,” Jeremy said with a grin. “I think she refrains from scolding me quite a lot.”

“One day she’s going to snap and it will be epic,” Dorian added roguishly. “Make sure Varric’s around. I think he’ll enjoy Cassandra growling at someone other than him.”

Hawke’s eyebrow went up. “Is Varric… I mean…”

“They’re fine,” Jeremy said, raising one hand soothingly. “I had to intervene once when I thought she might strangle him but it sorted itself out quickly enough. She was just a bit annoyed that Varric lied about being able to contact you.”

Hawke wince. “I… didn’t mean to get him in trouble. I just thought it would be better if people didn’t think they could use him against me.”

“Varric’s very loyal to you,” Jeremy said.

Hawke looked troubled. “I know. I never asked for that.”

Jeremy snorted. “And I never asked to be called the Herald of Andraste or be named Inquisitor. Any more than you asked to be named Champion. We are who we are, Hawke. We can’t control what other people think or say or do. Varric’s an adult. He knew what he was doing.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, would you really have wanted my job?”

Hawke stared at him for a moment. “She wanted to make me Inquisitor?”

Jeremy nodded. “The Divine had already decided to create the Inquisition and was putting all the pieces in place – Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, Josephine – they were all in place long before I was named Inquisitor. Maybe if the Conclave had gone well, nothing would have come of it but the fact she had all the pieces ready to go tells me she didn’t think it would work.”

“I don’t think I would have helped,” Hawke said with a sigh. “I’m not sure I ever really helped in Kirkwall.”

“You defeated the Arishok,” Fenris said then he rolled his eyes. “In single combat, no less.”

Hawke looked a little sheepish. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“You could have named a champion.”

“Not really,” Hawke said ruefully. “Besides, do you really think I’d have been in any better position watching _you_ fight the Arishok? At least you and Aveline and Varric managed to stay out of it. I… don’t know if I could have done that.”

Fenris looked a bit startled at that and Dorian snickered. 

“You two are completely adorable, you know that?”

Fenris scowled but Hawke just grinned shyly. “It’s been said before. But come on, I waited three years for Fenris, I’m allowed to be a bit stupid about it now.”

“Three years?” Dorian said, looking horrified. No one could tell whether he was genuine or joking. “You’re a better man than I to put up with blue balls for three years.” He looked Hawke up and down then turned that appalled look on Fenris. “What on earth were you doing? Leaving this one alone for three years. Someone else might have snapped him up.”

Both Jeremy and Dorian were a bit startled when Fenris’ face darkened and he actually snarled at that but Hawke didn’t even bat an eyelid. He’d known of Anders’ feelings for him but he’d never felt anything more for the renegade mage than friendship. Not that Anders had let that get in the way of needling Fenris. There were good reasons why he’d avoided having the two of them with him unless he couldn’t avoid it. The antagonistic bickering wore on him and frankly it was Fenris he’d wanted to lure back to his bed so it was Fenris he’d had with him if at all possible.

“Not a chance,” he said with a smile. “I was never going to do anything other than wait. I understood.”

Fenris calmed at that and shot a look at Hawke that was all affectionate apology. Hawke just grinned back at him. 

“Besides, he gave me hope. He kept wearing my tokens.”

Now Fenris actually blushed a little and Jeremy clamped a hand on Dorian’s thigh in an effort to stop any teasing from that source. Fenris was prickly over the oddest things and he knew they were missing a lot of the subtext. He also knew better than to ask. Fenris was being very tolerant of a lot of the teasing but he suspected the elf might not appreciate open discussion of his love life.

“See?” Dorian said to Jeremy with a quirk of his eyebrows that said he understood. “Adorable.”

Jeremy snickered and when Fenris looked over at him, he gave the elf his most innocent look. “Well… you are.”

Fenris scowled then it dissolved into a small smile. “I am surrounded by idiots.”

“Poor Fenris,” Hawke said, grinning. “The only sane warrior in a sea of idiot mages.”

“Very true.”

“Ah, come now,” Dorian said, pointing a finger at Fenris. “You have your own form of magic in those lyrium markings you have claimed so well.”

Had Dorian worded that in any other way, Fenris might have taken offence but it seemed the Tevninter mage wasn’t as oblivious to the feelings of those around him as he sometimes seemed.

“I am no mage,” was all he said instead.

Jeremy shifted in his seat and looked a bit sick. “I still can’t believe that Danarius person did that to you. Just as well he’s dead or I might want to have some words with him.”

“You’d have to get in line,” Hawke said dryly. “Behind me, Aveline, Isabella, Carver, Varric, Sebastian, even Merrill. In no particular order.”

Fenris looked a little startled at that list then he covered by saying, “You are assuming any of you would have gotten a chance.”

Hawke grinned wolfishly. “It was something else watching you shove your hand through his chest. Bet he never saw that coming when he gave you those markings.”

“You never considered stopping me?” Fenris asked.

Hawke shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t stop you when it was Hadriana, did I? They both deserved to die at your hand.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should change that adorable to bloodthirsty.” He pretended to consider that for a moment. “No, I think adorable still fits.”

“You don’t object?” Hawke asked, an eyebrow raised in a small challenge.

Dorian snorted. “I can think of no better fate for a man like Danarius. He is a prime example of everything that is wrong with Tevinter.”

“Yet you kept slaves,” Hawke said archly.

“My father kept slaves,” Dorian replied. “I never got that far before I left.” He held up one hand. “But I do acknowledge your point. However what happened to Fenris is not the rule in Tevinter. _Most_ people have enough humanity in them to treat their slaves well, to educate them, give them skills. Danarius was the exception, not the rule.”

Hawke glanced over at Fenris, who simply shrugged.

“I cannot say whether he is right or wrong. I do not remember meeting other slaves when I was young – I do not remember anything of when I was young – and Danarius kept me close after the brands were placed.” He shrugged again. “Then we were in Seheron, where I was rarely permitted to be away from his side. He feared that place and the Qunari who were there. I do not think he was there willingly.”

Hawke nodded thoughtfully then turned back to Dorian. “Would you change that if you could?”

“Slavery?” Dorian said. “Of course. One of many things I would change if I had the power.” He snorted. “Unfortunately I am a disgrace to my family and there are few, if any, who would listen to a word I had to say.”

“A disgrace?” Hawke said curiously.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at him but it was to Dorian that he spoke. “Because you prefer the company of men and refuse to hide it.”

A bitter look settled on Dorian’s face that was only alleviated when Jeremy leaned into him. “Yes, because I refused to spend my life playing pretend and screaming on the inside. So I am a disgrace.”

Fenris cocked his head slightly. “You are honest. That places you ahead of your countrymen.”

The bitterness on Dorian’s face faded a little. “I think, from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You know, everything I hear about Tevinter makes me think it is a very messed up place,” Hawke muttered, shaking his head.

“I will not disagree,” Fenris said.

“Neither will I,” Jeremy added.

“Well, this conversation has turned terribly dreary,” Dorian said a little sourly. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Let’s,” Jeremy said firmly. He smiled a little. “Tell me something I can use against Varric. He’s always making up stories about me, after all.”

Hawke laughed. “Oh, he did that about me as well. Half the stories you hear about me these days are Varric specials.” He considered it. “Alright, I think I have a good one.”

He began to describe one of their adventures in Kirkwall and the atmosphere in the room settled back into something more harmonious. Fenris leaned back in his chair and took a sip of wine. Tomorrow they would be on the road to Wiesshaupt but they would do so with the promise of aid if they needed it and a place to return to once they were done. It was more than they’d had in a long time.


End file.
